


All is As it Should Be (Oh, Except for the Distance Between Me and You)

by jellytea



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellytea/pseuds/jellytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future!fic. Katie is James' manager. And she really shouldn't be drooling over The Face when she knows that he still loves dinosaur nuggets and has weekly playdates with Carlos. But. It's The Face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is As it Should Be (Oh, Except for the Distance Between Me and You)

**Author's Note:**

> For lizwinlove at LJ who prompted me "Jatie, future!fic. Featuring lots of Carlos (because any BTR story should) and maybe some Kelly, 'cause she is awesome."
> 
> Title is from Demi Lovato's "Falling Over Me."

Katie Knight was the youngest CEO to helm any talent management agency in Hollywood, let alone one that she had personally crafted from the ground up; a fresh-faced twenty-one-year-old who had an incredibly impressive clientele, and was bombarded daily with proposals for taking on new talent because of her effective hands-on approach. Every one of her clients landed major roles on television and in movies, sold out music venues, graced the covers of major fashion magazines, and garnered great success on stage. She was a major shareholder in the movie business and no matter what she asked for, and no matter who she asked, she could expect results in less than twelve hours. Invitations to the industry parties she threw every year to welcome new talent into Knight Management were considered gold and PRs scrambled to get their celebrities onto the guest list.

She could do anything. Everyone in Hollywood knew she could do anything.

And yet she couldn't wake up her most important client in time for an early morning interview.

She stabbed at the screen of her phone, rolling her eyes when the call to James immediately went to voicemail. Which meant that he was awake and consciously ignoring her calls. She tucked the day's agenda under her arm and dug in her purse for the spare set of keys to James' apartment. She found them just as the elevator doors opened up to the tenth floor. She slipped her phone into her bag and strode over to the first door on the right. She knocked three times, just as a show of formality, and then used her key to let herself in. 

"James! You have an interview in thirty minutes, and then an entire day of recording and meet-and-greets," Katie called, confidently weaving her way through the place, frowning as she noticed the clutter of empty pizza boxes and beer bottles in the living room. Something was wrong. James, though not the neat freak that Logan was, would never have gone to bed with the apartment this messy. Not unless -

Ah, crap.

She stopped short at James' bedroom door when she saw a socked foot sticking out of the doorway. A socked foot that definitely didn't belong to James. She reached down and ruthlessly pinched the tan skin visible above the sock.

"Carlos!" Katie hissed. God. She had forgotten that Wednesday nights meant the duo's bi-weekly sleepovers. (An event that basically was an excuse for the two supposedly grown men to indulge their inner children and play video games, chow down on pizza and pie, and drink an insane amount of beer - all things that Katie had sternly told James to tone down once the band had disbanded, because how would their adoring fans react when they found out that the crooning ladies' man and the most recognized stuntman in Hollywood held regular play dates?) But she had emailed Carlos James' schedule for the week on Monday, and he should've acted like a good friend and canceled this week's sleepover. Which. Unfortunately, he hadn't.

She placed her bag down next to the door and looked at the folder holding the agenda. Clipped to the back was a thick packet that she and Kelly had compiled the night before Big Time Rush had officially announced their disbanding - knowing that it would come in handy someday - that listed all the possible ways to wake up or get the attention of the boys. Katie gingerly pushed at Carlos' leg until he rolled over with a groan and cleared the doorway. She stepped over him and marched over to James who was sprawled flat on his stomach, head buried under a pillow, clutching his cell phone. She shoved at his shoulder.

"James Diamond. You have exactly fifteen minutes before we have to be in the car," she said, shoving harder. He gave a muffled groan and kicked one leg halfheartedly towards what he thought was her direction.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled. Katie heaved a sigh before ripping the sheets off of James, and then grinned when he let out an indignant yelp and drew his knees towards his chest, effectively sticking his butt into her face. Which just gave her cause to reach over and slap it. 

"Either you will wash up by yourself, or I swear, I will text the wardrobe coordinator right now and make sure that you will be wearing something floral on live TV."

James immediately leaped off the bed and ran into the bathroom.

Now, there was only Carlos to deal with. Katie tapped her foot, thinking. Then she leaned down and grabbed Carlos by the ear, satisfied when moments later his eyes popped open and he yelled, "Katie! Why do you always go for the ears?!"

-

"That was great!" Katie enthused, handing James a water bottle as he ambled backstage after finishing his interview. He preened. "We have a radio interview next, then a meet-and-greet, and then you have two hours for lunch. And then it's to the studio to lay down some preliminary tracks for that song you wrote."

"We're actually going with that?" he asked, sliding on his sunglasses. "That was just something I was fiddling around with. Half of the song's not even written down on paper yet."

"It was a good one," she said simply. "You always come up with your best songs when you're goofing off, anyway." She started typing on her phone. When James didn't respond, she looked up. "What's wrong? You're hesitating."

"Did you actually listen to the song?" he asked hesitantly.

She shrugged. "Yeah. Well, bits of it. I was running around that day, but I liked what I heard. Why?"

"It's, just, for a specific person," he said. He glanced over at her, glad that his eyes were hidden, to gauge her reaction. To see if she knew that he had been singing about... _her_.

"That's great!" she smiled. "Oh, here we are. Put your Face on. We have about twenty seconds between this door and the car. I'm thinking, ten autographs, tops. And no posing. We have to be at the radio station in an hour."

They pushed their way through the horde of screaming girls and photographers towards the discrete black Mercedes idling by the curb. (Katie's policy was to never use limousines. They took up far more space than necessary, always got stuck in traffic, and attracted fans like a beacon.) Just as they'd settled in - her with her datebook and agenda folder, him with a magazine - Katie's phone began emitting a series of long beeps.

"That has got to be the worst ringtone in the history of the world," James scowled. She raised her index finger in the air, shushing him, and answered her phone.

"Hey, George." Her voice grew a little softer. "I'm with a client right now, what do you need?"

-

"I can't stand Jordan," James grumbled later that day, channeling all of his anger and slamming a fist into the punching bag hard enough that the bag swung back alarmingly close to his face. Carlos steadied the bag and raised his eyebrow. The two of them had been working out for the past hour and forty-five minutes, and he couldn't help but notice that James was a bit more tense than usual, jacking up the intensity of his cardio and, now, kick-boxing.

"George," Carlos corrected. He snorted when James gave him a _whatever_ shrug and made a pfft sound.

"We were supposed to have lunch today, you know. Katie and me," James panted, aiming a swift roundhouse kick to the punching bag. "And then _he_ called and told her that he was meeting with Kelly and he needed her there."

"So?" Carlos asked, puzzled. "That happens all the time."

James started hopping back and forth, circling the bag, popping his right hand in and out in short bursts. "Do you know that George is one of the few people that Kelly doesn't like?"

"Do you know that George is one of the few people that _you_ don't like?" Carlos shot back. James ignored him.

"So you know that song I've been working on?"

Carlos lunged forward and stilled the bag, forcing James to stop attacking it. "What? The song about Katie?" He stopped teasing when he saw James' solemn expression.

"She suggested that I record it. And she has no idea that it's about her."

"Well, you don't say her name in it, so if she knew that it was about her, then she has psychic powers," Carlos grinned. James hmmphed and stepped over to the bench that was crowded with their duffel bags and water bottles. He uncapped his and took a long swig from it, sliding the bandanna off his head to wipe at the sweat on his neck.

"I'm going to tell her, man," he nodded. "Tonight."

"I'd tell you that you're crazy and that you shouldn't, but. I can't stand George either. And, dude, it's only been, what. Ten years? I say, go for it," Carlos said, coming over and clapping James on the shoulder. "But only if I get to help."

  
"I really wish we had our tree hats right now," Carlos whispered to James as the two of them crouched outside the restaurant they had seen Katie walk into ten minutes ago.

"We can bring them next time," James whispered back. He craned his neck, squinting, trying to see where Katie was being seated. "This is ridiculous. Don't well-known managers get seated right next to the window? So that the restaurant can get more business? Why is the hostess walking so far?"

"Soooo," Carlos drew out the word. "What exactly are you planning to do? Burst into song and dance? Declare your absolute hatred of her long-time boyfriend?"

James glared at his best friend. "Shush. I - I'm making things up as I go along."

Carlos fished out a folded copy of the schedule Katie had emailed him. He scanned the events for tonight. "Well, you have about fifteen minutes before George gets here," Carlos said. "He gets in at 8:05."

"Okay. I'm going in."

"I'll keep a lookout. Keep your walkie-talkie _on_ ," Carlos hissed and poked James in the side. "I know how you're all against technology that isn't your phone, but -"

"Okay, okay," James said, rolling  his eyes. He straightened up and brushed the leaves off his jacket, saying loudly, "oh _right_ , that's not how you catch squirrels!" when passersby were startled to see the singer pop up from the bush.

He casually strolled into the restaurant and flashed a smile at the curly-haired hostess, who dropped her pen and stared at him, open-mouthed. "Hi...Erin," he read her name tag. "I'm not planning to eat here, I just came by to say hi to a friend. Could you tell me where Katie Knight is sitting?" She nodded breathlessly and his smile grew wider.

He followed Erin to the left side of the room, to where Katie was poring over some contracts and dipping a piece of bread into a shallow bowl of olive oil. She didn't notice him until he knocked his knuckles on the table. That made her look up and her face broke out into a smile, one that was quickly replaced with a frown, and he could practically see her trying to remember whether or not they'd planned to meet tonight before dinner.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, even as he was dragging the opposite chair close to her and dropping into it. 

"James, I'm actually meeting George for dinner. Be snappy."

He drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth. No sound came out. She gave him a strange look. He let out a shaky laugh and dropped his gaze to the table. He inched his hand across the table, slowly covering her left hand with his, and began lightly tracing her fingers, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the ridges in her hands. With his eyes still focused on their entwined hands, he blurted,  "Katie. I love you."

Katie leaned over and punched James in the shoulder.

"What. Did you say?" she demanded. He ran the hand that wasn't holding hers through his hair, not caring that it was in disarray. (Which was even more troubling, because only incredibly important things distracted James Diamond from maintaining the Face.) "You have to leave. I have dinner with George in five minutes and -"

"I hate him," James interrupted. He had finally let go of her hand, had finally stopped rubbing his thumb distractingly over her knuckles. "I've never liked George. He's manipulative and arrogant and thinks he's so much better than everyone else."

"So am I!" Katie cried. "That's why he's perfect for me. Who else would put up with my insane schedules? I'm not eleven anymore, James," she said firmly. "I can't settle for someone with great eyes and who likes the same video games as I do."

"You are _not_ like him," he said fiercely. Katie blinked up at him. "You're not. No matter what your reputation is like, you're so much better than him. You actually care about the people you work with. For God's sakes, Katie, you put up with me and Carlos and Kendall and Logan. You have regular lunches with Kelly. You made sure that Camille had an ironclad Broadway contract. You didn't ditch us the moment you hit big in Hollywood. And I can't stand the person you become when you're with George." 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she whispered.

"Katie." His voice was low. He brought a hand up to brush her hair back behind her ear, lingering and tracing down her cheek. "I love you."

"Don't _say_ that," she said, inhaling sharply.

"I think I've always loved you," James continued, staring into her eyes. "Even when you were eleven, and just thought of me as one of your goofy older brothers. Why do you think I got so overprotective when you told me about your first crush? And when you finally turned eighteen - you know I didn't kiss you just because you were the birthday girl," he said. Katie's eyes widened. "You remember, don't you?"

Of course she remembered.

Kendall and the boys had organized a huge party for her eighteenth birthday; everyone at the Palmwoods had been invited. She'd actually worn a dress and had let her mom, Camille, and the Jennifers do her hair and makeup, not quite letting herself admit that she was getting pretty for a certain James. She was turning eighteen after all. But the whole night, Kendall had decided that he and the boys would act as overprotective dads, scaring away any boy that wanted to talk to her, to dance with her. And anytime James came up to her, he would just laugh a little bit too loudly, pat her awkwardly on the head, and keep his eyes focused on her face. (He didn't even look at her boobs for a second.) But then as the party started winding down, she had bumped into him in the hallway outside the bathroom. He had grinned and wished her a happy birthday and leaned down to kiss her cheek. And she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to do something. She wasn't wasting her eighteenth birthday by chickening out. So she turned her head just as he was about to make contact and brushed her lips against his. And for a moment, everything was perfect. Before Kendall had barged in, shoved James away from her, and threatened to hit him in the head with a hockey stick, best friends or not.

"Abort mission! Abort mission!" Carlos' unmistakable voice crackled from James' pocket. Moments later, Katie blinked when Carlos appeared next to their table, breathing hard and massaging a cramp in his side.

"Hey - Katie - fancy - meeting you - here," he panted, trying on an innocent face. He pointed at her water glass. "You gonna drink that?" When she shook her head, he grabbed the glass and threw the contents down his throat. "James, um, we gotta go. We have a, um, thing. Because it's 8:05." He tugged at James' arms until he reluctantly stood up.

"I'll talk to you later?" James asked hopefully. She gave a stilted nod. Then Carlos was pulling him away from the table, and the two raced out of the restaurant, almost bumping into the hostess and George who were weaving their way through the tables.

"Was that James Diamond and Carlos Garcia running out of the restaurant?" George asked, pocketing his phone as he sat down across from Katie. She nodded blindly and took a giant swig of her wine.

"Yes. They were, um," she cleared her throat. "They needed advice on something, but I told them I would call them tomorrow. Because I'm here with you." She pasted on a wide smile. "And it's been so long since we had a quiet dinner, just the two of us."

"Oh, okay," George shrugged and went back to perusing the menu. "What should I get? I'm starving, and I have an international call in forty minutes."

"I thought we were going to watch a movie or something afterwards," Katie frowned.

"Honey, we have tons of movies at home," he said patronizingly. "This call is very important. I'm negotiating a movie deal with Wainwright Productions." He tapped at his Bluetooth earpiece. "Hold on. Let me check my e-mail." He fished both his Blackberry and PDA out of his coat pocket and began typing away.

"Yes, of course," she nodded. She finished her wine and motioned at the waiter to top off her glass. She absently touched her cheek, where James had pressed a hot kiss right before Carlos had barreled into the restaurant a few minutes ago, and remembered the warm feeling she got in her tummy. Then she looked over at George, boyfriend of two years, who couldn't be bothered to silence his cell phone during dinner and reschedule a meeting when this was the first proper dinner they'd had together in weeks.

-

Two days later - two days of ignoring all texts and letting calls go straight to voicemail - Katie knocked on James' door, holding a strawberry-banana-peach smoothie as a potential peace offering. She heaved a breath of relief when he opened the door a full minute and a half later. She gave him a hesitant smile and held out the smoothie.

"Hey," she said softly. "Can I come in?"

Instead of answering her, he furrowed his brow. "This is the first time in ten years I've seen you not wearing a suit," he commented. She looked down at her jeans and tee shirt, and then back up at him, and nodded. He took a step back and waved her in. He sat down heavily in an armchair, propping his forearms on his knees and cracking his knuckles. "What are you doing here?" he asked sullenly. "Do you want me to apologize for ambushing you at dinner? Are you here to tell me that you're engaged to the perfect Mr. George Hardwick?"

"James, you're an idiot," Katie rolled her eyes. She strode over to James, pressed her hands onto his shoulders, leaned down, and kissed him on the lips. "It's refreshing, seeing you overthink about something."

"Heyy," he pouted, pulling back. "Aren't you trying to woo me? Why are you insulting me?"

"Wow, you've gotten over being upset really quickly," she said wryly. He smiled and pulled her close, nestling his head against her stomach. She giggled when he said something against her tummy, his muffled voice sending little vibrations up her chest. "Wait, what? I didn't hear what you said."

He leaned back a little and looked up at her. "You're here with me now. You just kissed me. Things are looking good."

Katie nodded. She perched herself on the arm of the chair and hooked an arm around his shoulders. She pressed a kiss to James' cheek, laughing when he quickly turned so that their mouths were pressed together.

"Or, you know," she said against his lips, "until I have to tell Kendall."

James groaned. "I need a lot more kissing from you first." He slung his arms around her waist and pulled her down into his lap.


End file.
